


Debut, Part I: Oscillation

by akamww3



Series: Encounters [13]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Another Step Forward, But Uncertainty Persists, Established Relationship, F/M, Mollcroft, Molly's Method Of Revenge Exposed, Post-TAB Setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 22:04:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6443641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamww3/pseuds/akamww3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Mycroft suffers twinges of guilt and momentary doubt and yet he and Molly still manage to move forward ...</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Debut, Part I: Oscillation

**Author's Note:**

> Mycroft Holmes strode across the pavement and into the building with a nod at the security officer who was holding the door open for him and headed to his office at a brisk pace, occasionally acknowledging other staff with a lifted chin or quick word, but no one attempted to delay him and certain others changed course to avoid him.

Anthea rose to her feet as Mycroft entered the office. His gaze briefly shifted in her direction as he returned her greeting without pausing … and then, just as Anthea had started to relax, he stopped and turned to her. “Did you have a pleasant weekend?”

Her eyes widened. “Yes, sir. And you?” She suppressed a wince at her automatic echoing of the polite inquiry.

“I did, thank you,” he said, then went through his door and shut it quietly behind him.

Anthea dropped into her chair, still staring at the closed door … surprised that he’d responded at all and thoroughly shocked by his response.

**~ ~**

Ten minutes later, Anthea entered Mycroft’s office following a soft rap on the door and set a cup of tea by his right hand before taking a seat across from him. Mycroft thanked her in an absent-minded tone without looking up from the file he was reading, and Anthea took the opportunity to study her boss from under her brows, trying to figure out what was different about him. When he shifted position, she quickly dropped her gaze so that when he glanced up, her eyes were fixed on her mobile as she dealt with her emails.

Mycroft stared at her for a moment, then his attention returned to the file. When he finally placed it on the desk, Anthea handed him a folder that had been received from the Home Secretary half an hour before. Five minutes later, Mycroft set that aside as well, then leaned back in his chair and looked at his PA. “You can inform the Home Office that I’ll be bringing a guest to the dinner with the Americans on Friday.”

Anthea kept her expression neutral with a great deal of effort. “Do I need to run a background check –”

“We already have a file on her … Doctor Molly Hooper,” he said evenly as his gaze met hers. “Send the Ambassador’s representative an extract.”

“Are you …,” her voice trailed off and she cleared her throat at the upward flick of elegant brows over steely blue eyes. She rose to her feet and gave him a brief smile as she turned to leave. “That will certainly be advantageous, sir.”

“Sorry?”

Anthea immediately regretted offering an unsolicited opinion, even more so when she turned back and met Mycroft’s narrow-eyed stare. “Having someone accompany you will likely distract Jones and his goons, sir. They’ll probably spend more time wondering who Dr. Hooper really is and why you brought her than wondering what you’re doing there.” Mycroft continued to stare, but Anthea had the impression he was no longer seeing her … and then he blinked and abruptly turned toward his laptop without commenting. She reached to open the door and –

“Anthea.”

“Sir?”

“I’ll be attending the dinner alone.”

A pause, then a hasty, “Yes, sir.”

When the door closed behind her, Mycroft sat back and brought his steepled fingers to his chin. _Advantageous._ His lids dropped over his eyes with the return of that momentary twinge of guilt and self-condemnation he’d experienced on hearing his assistant voice what had been his own opinion – and one he’d freely expressed to Molly when mentioning the Embassy event. Yet she’d still been transparently happy at the thought of having an evening out with him. A _date_ … when he would have been using the occasion for his own strategic purposes, just another tactical move in his game plan. He’d cautioned Molly only a week before about the dangers of associating with him publicly, but hadn’t warned her that the greatest risk to her safety might originate with _him_ and the ease with which he used others as pawns.

**~ ~**

Anthea’s musings were interrupted when the phone rang and she finally stepped away from Mycroft’s door, shaking her head as she walked back to her desk. _Molly Hooper?_

**~~~~~**

Mycroft arrived at Molly’s early Monday evening and heard the loud music coming from the flat before he reached her door. He used the key she’d returned to him and quietly let himself in, intending to surprise her, but instead froze in place at seeing the familiar Belstaff hanging beside Molly’s puffy pink jacket … and the conversation he unintentionally and most unwillingly overheard left him momentarily numb.

“Does my brother know,” Sherlock grunted, “what you’ve been doing?”

“This doesn’t concern Mycroft,” Molly puffed dismissively. “This is between you and me.”

Mycroft’s knuckles turned white when he gripped his umbrella more tightly.

“And he thinks you’re so nice –

“Not _that_ nice,” she grunted.

Mycroft had turned to go just as a heavy thud shook the flat, Molly gasped, and his brother scoffed derisively.

“You literally can’t hold up your end of the deal, Molly.”

“Oh shut up, Sherlock.”

Mycroft closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then hung the umbrella on a hook and removed his coat before walking around the corner and into the sitting room.

“Bend your knees and use your legs, not your back.” Sherlock was still holding one end of the sofa, and Molly – obviously having dropped the other end - was glaring at him, arms akimbo, fists on her hips.

Molly saw movement at the corner of her eye and turned with a scowl, but her expression immediately softened into a welcoming smile when her eyes met her unexpected visitor’s. _“Mycroft!”_ She hurried toward him, totally ignoring Sherlock’s disgusted snort. “I didn’t know you were coming over tonight.”

Mycroft returned her smile and swiftly caught hold of her hands, lightly squeezing them as he subtly held her away, avoiding the kiss she’d obviously been about to plant on him. “What’s going on?” he asked mildly, both out of curiosity and to distract her.

“Sherlock’s helping me rearrange my furniture,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “Isn’t that nice of him?”

When Molly moved away to switch off the music, Mycroft turned toward Sherlock, who was obviously keeping his temper in check by a thread, so he helped to snap it. “Ah yes, little brother is known for his good works.”

 _“Revenge!_ That’s what it is, and not just today,” Sherlock protested sharply. “Do you know what your girlfriend’s been putting me through over the past six weeks?”

“I’m not his girlfr –”

“Do tell, brother mine,” Mycroft interrupted smoothly. “What’s Molly been doing to you?”

“She made me reorganize the lab storeroom –”

“You use the lab often enough so you should help keep it clean – ”

“Catalog the specimens -”

“You enjoyed that! And got a foot out of it –”

“Find lost pets –”

“You had fun returning Alfie and becoming Bobby’s hero –“

“Vet her friend’s romantic interests …” Sherlock paused, waiting for Molly’s interjection. “No comeback there, huh? Your friend is an idiot, Molly. How else could she have missed all the classic signs.” He turned to Mycroft, looking totally aggrieved. “Molly’s friend hit me when I informed her of the boyfriend’s wife -”

“Susan slapped your arm and not even that hard,” Molly scoffed. “You were incredibly rude, Sherlock. I’d have slapped your cheek –”

“Which you’ve done –

“Which I’ve done and with good cause,” she countered stonily. “Do you really want to go there again?”

Sherlock ignored that and went back to his grievances. “Do her shopping –”

“Just the once –”

“And even then you made a fuss,” he hissed.

“You forgot the milk.”

Sherlock stood glowering at Molly, arms crossed. “I’ve had enough.”

“Fine,” she said ungraciously, mirroring his position. “Today was going to be the last of it anyway.”

Sherlock turned his wrath on Mycroft. _“You_ can help her move the bloody sofa, brother dear. _I’m_ leaving.”

“Wouldn’t you like to stay for tea?” Her tone was cloyingly sweet.

“Stuff it, Molly,” Sherlock muttered under his breath as he strode toward the door.

Molly’s eyes met Mycroft’s in shared amusement before she hurried after his brother. Mycroft went to the kitchen and put the kettle on, then leaned against the counter, crossing his ankles as he matched stares with the cat and the voices rose and fell in the front entry. Molly’s rose again, but in a much friendlier tone. “Thank you, Sherlock! See you tomorrow!” Mycroft heard the door close, then Molly came into the kitchen and sat at the table. “I hope you don’t think I’ve been too hard on your brother, but he deserved to suffer some consequences for what he did to us,” she said, drumming her fingers on the table as she met his gaze. _“Damn it,_ Mycroft! I’ve put up with so much over the years –”

“I’m impressed by your ingeniousness, my dear.”

Molly grinned. “Despite how Sherlock reacted today, he’s actually been remarkably cooperative considering some of the things I’ve had him do. I haven’t been above extracting some petty revenge.” She got up and went to stand in front of Mycroft. “You owe me a kiss,” she said, lifting her chin. When he briefly pressed his lips to hers and pulled her closer to rest against him, she sighed and closed her eyes. _“Mmmm_ , that was lovely … but completely insufficient in this instance,” she continued more briskly as she pushed herself away from him. “John told me about the _Les Mis_ incident so I also had Sherlock call your mother and ask to take your place the next time they come to London to see a musical.”

 _“That_ was diabolical,” Mycroft said with a slow smile as he straightened and took her more firmly into his arms. “Thank you, Molly.” He slid his hand through her hair and tilted her head back as he lowered his lips to hers. When he ran his tongue over her bottom lip, she opened her mouth and the kiss deepened, became passionate, until they had to separate for much needed breaths. Mycroft rested his chin on the top of Molly’s head and made a mental note to double the usual deposit to Sherlock’s bank account to make up for any loss he may have suffered if he’d let billable cases go while dealing with Molly’s “assignments.” His brother never expressed any concerns about money matters and seemed to take it for granted that his account remained healthy without questioning the sources of funds. Although Sherlock earned a better living from playing detective than Mycroft had ever expected, the inflow of cash wasn’t steady since his brother worked _gratis_ as often as not.

Mycroft sighed, then grasped Molly’s waist to hold her away from him. “I need to talk to you, Molly.”

Molly looked at him uncertainly as she waved her hand toward the table. “Have a seat while I finish the tea,” she said.

“The tea can wait,” he said, pulling out the chair at a right angle to his. He waited until Molly sat down, then took her hand. “I warned you when this started that I’m not a kind man, my dear, and close exposure to your warm heart these last few months has had little, if any, effect on that.” He thought of how easily his distrust had returned on finding Sherlock at Molly’s flat, how quickly he’d believed her capable of inconstancy. “The Embassy dinner I told you about …,” he paused and slowly shook his head.

“We’re not going?”

 _“I’m_ going,” he corrected her, then continued in an even tone. “When it comes to work, I frequently use people for my own purposes without a second thought, and I was prepared to use _you.”_

A crease appeared between Molly’s brows as she stared at him. “You said my accompanying you would be ‘advantageous’,” she said slowly. “I wondered about you using that term, but decided it was just you being ... _you.”_

“You were correct as it turns out, but not in the way you meant,” he said. “My appearing at such a dinner with a companion would to some extent have thrown off certain parties interested in my activities, but it would also have put you under their scrutiny,” he said.

“If it would really help you, I could –”

“No, Molly,” he said sternly, but gave her hand a squeeze before letting go.

“Well, I’m glad you told me before I bought a new dress,” she said with a quick smile. “Is that it then?” When Mycroft lifted his brows, she clarified, “Is that the entire confession?” A lift of his chin and a brief nod confirmed that. “Need I tell you that I don’t care?” she asked curiously, then repeated more seriously. “I don’t care, Mycroft. In fact, if it would help you, I’d like to –”

“No, Molly,” he repeated flatly, giving her a narrow-eyed stare.

“All right.” Molly finally broke their eye contact with a roll of hers, then got up, stepped behind his chair, and suddenly slid her arms around his shoulders. “You’re much kinder than you realize,” she said in a low voice and kissed the side of his neck.

Mycroft turned his head until his eyes met hers. “I’m really not.”

They silently stared at each other until Molly tilted her head toward the bedroom. “Do you want to …?”

“Yes,” he said emphatically, then continued more grimly, “but I have to be at a meeting in …,” he paused to glance at her wall clock, “about ninety minutes and I need to go home first to shower and shave.”

“Now you’re just being a tease,” she said, smoothing her fingers over his jaw and sighing dramatically. She released him and stood back as he rose to his feet. “Will I see you this weekend?”

“About that,” Mycroft said, staring down at her, “would you like to go out to dinner Saturday night?”

“Dinner out?” Molly’s eyes widened. “As in an official, non-work-related date?”

“Don’t act so shocked,” he said drily. “You must remember Antonio’s.” His lips curved when color rose in her cheeks. “And on Sunday …”

“Yes?”

“I thought we could drive down to my parents’ place.”

“Oh,” she said weakly. “That sounds –”

“Ghastly?”

 _“NO!_ No, I’m sure it will be lovely,” she said carefully.

“I wouldn’t go that far, but I think you’ll like them – other people usually do,” he said with a quizzical look, “and I know they’ll like you.”

“Your bit of skirt,” she said lightly before her eyes slid away from his.

He pressed his lips together in a thin line as he studied her expression. “My parents didn’t think that. _I’ve_ never thought that. You’re my …,” he paused.

Molly’s gaze returned to his. “Can’t finish that thought, can you,” she said teasingly, then added more seriously. _“Friend_ will do.”

“My good friend.”

“Just don’t slur the words. You’d hate it if they thought you said ‘girlfriend’.”

Mycroft gave an exasperated snort. “You think you’re so cute.”

“We could just say you’re my lover and make it easy.”

“Friend,” he said sternly. “Good friend.”

“Friend,” she agreed.

“Now,” he said, stepping away from her and moving toward the sitting room. “Where do you want the sofa?”

“Back where it was,” she admitted. “I didn’t really want to rearrange my furniture. Sherlock was right to be aggravated.”

~ ~

Ten minutes later, Molly followed Mycroft to the front entry and waited while he put his coat on. He stepped closer and stood looking down at her for several silent moments before bending to press his lips to hers. He pulled away with obvious reluctance, then his eyes met hers and he bent again to kiss her more firmly, more thoroughly ... more deeply … until Molly hummed low in her throat. Mycroft quickly released her, grabbed his umbrella and went out the door with an abrupt, “I’ll call you later.”

Molly drew a long, shuddery breath, then pushed away from the door and headed toward the kitchen. A _date_ \- she and Mycroft were going on an actual date, just the two of them. And in public.

A little while later, Molly carried the teapot to the table and poured herself a cup before sitting down. She sighed happily and lifted the tea toward her mouth … then paused, wondering where Mycroft might take her. A moment later, the cup clattered against its saucer as the more important question occurred to Molly. _What the hell was she going to wear?_

**Author's Note:**

> Comments? Yes, please do!! If you have the time and inclination to share your thoughts, I'd love to read them. Feedback from readers is often the only thing that keeps me going. They give me more enthusiasm for writing than you know.
> 
>  _Edited 7 April 2016 to add:_ It's come to my attention that the "structure" of this series could be confusing. If I'd known Mycroft's and Molly's initial encounter was eventually going to develop into a relationship, I would have started this as a multi-chaptered story instead of a series. Please note that the storyline of this Encounters series is chronological, so reading earlier parts will show how they got to where they are now. :)
> 
> For anyone who might be interested, I'm on Tumblr and devote 99.99% of my time and effort there to Mycroft/Mark love. [WaitingForTheThaw](http://waitingforthethaw.tumblr.com/)


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